


when you walk away

by duchess_of_shipping



Category: Scream (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Not enough to keep her alive but like, Statum - Freeform, Stu really loves Tatum in this one, Stu x Taum - Freeform, Sympathetic!Stu, i guess??, idk???, kinda???, murderer apologist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-09-25 08:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duchess_of_shipping/pseuds/duchess_of_shipping
Summary: i could the steps that you takeor: stu realizes that, tonight, he has to let his tatum die.





	when you walk away

**Author's Note:**

> (tw: i'm sort of showing a more sympathetic side of stu, one of the murderous antagonists of the first scream movie. i am portraying him as actually in love with tatum instead of it being just for show like the movie implied. if this triggers you, please click away from this fic.
> 
> i also mention tatum's death briefly (i.e. a crushed head), and mentions of past and future killings in the movie, so if this is something that also triggers you, kindly click away from this. i will understand :) )

Stu knew this night was coming the minute he and Billy started talking about who they would target after hatching their murder scheme.

He knew the minute he’d asked Tatum out on a date after Casey dumped him, after he had just disposed of Maureen Prescott’s butchered remains but the only thing he could think of was _Tatum Tatum Tatum. _

He knew the day he climbed into Tatum’s room after she’d let him in, fresh off of gutting Casey Becker like this filthy bitch she was, and Tatum slid easily into his arms with little complaining despite just earlier yelling at him for scaring the shit out of her with his antics.

He knew the second he realized how Billy would stare the feisty little blonde down when he knew she wasn’t paying attention to him (like she ever did), like she was the only one on the earth he hated more than Maureen Prescott just because Tatum never approved of him and Sidney. At these times, Stu would hold Tatum just a little tighter to him, subtle enough that no one but her noticed, as if he could protect her and ward off Billy’s hatred for her with just his arms.

_(Or maybe he wanted to kill Tatum just because she was annoying to him; Billy Loomis had wanted to kill people for way less than that before.)_

Yes. Despite the way Stu sometimes tried to manipulate Billy into targeting another blonde who hated him and _pretend_ it was Tatum to get his aggression out, or someone else that they just didn’t plain like (more than once Stu put Randy, Neil Prescott, and even Sidney on the chopping block as an exchange for Tatum, but Billy never went for it), or the way his stomach tightened as he thought _no no no no no nononononononono…_

It was coming. Tatum Riley was on the list whether Stu liked it or not (and Billy never even cared about what Stu liked at the best of times, so what did he think would happen, honestly?).

Even now Stu could clearly recall the list, the list, _the list…_

_Maureen Prescott was a slutbag whore that just couldn’t stop fucking with people’s marriages and keep it in her pants, so naturally she had to die..._

_Casey Becker and Steve Orth who were shitty people that toyed with people’s hearts (namely Stu’s)..._

_Principal Himbry who was a stick in the mud and so fucking stuffy and annoying…_

_Dewey Riley, because despite how incompetent he could be, he was a cop close to Sidney and would catch on quickly to Billy's rues if given enough time around him…_

_Maybe Gale Weathers if she couldn’t keep her mouth shut (which she definitely couldn’t)..._

_Randy Meeks because he was a whiny annoying sack of shit who hounded after Sidney like a bitch in heat…_

_(Sidney Prescott was the only maybe on the list, as Billy, despite his deep hatred for her mother, _did _always like Sidney so very much…)_

_And his Tatum…_

Tatum noticed something was wrong.

She’d noticed that he was acting kinda schitzo with her; all skittish and squirrely and jumpy, like he was waiting for something but didn’t quite want whatever he was waiting for.

Say what you will about the ‘blonde haired, big titted’ walking stereotype that some people took her to be, but Tatum Riley was observant as all hell, and liked to think she knew her boyfriend like the back of her hand.

All day, he was hugging her or holding her hand or kissing her hair...or cheek...or lips...or fingers.

Yes, Tatum liked to be the center of attention, especially Stu’s attention, and of course he usually liked to comply with this particular trait of Tatum's, but this was _ridiculous._

_Hey,_ Stu, She shrugs him off lightly on their way to class, turning to him with her hands on her hips in the way he recognized as her meaning business. _What’s up with you?_

_Why, pretty baby?_ He frowns down at her like a confused puppy. _I got something on my face?_

Tatum shakes her head with a frown of her own, crossing her arms and squaring her shoulders as she continues to speak.

_No, I mean what’s up with your mood today?_ She explains. _I mean, yeah, you’re affectionate at all times and usually hanging off of me like a cute leech, but today it’s...off? Like you’re worried I’ll disappear or something…_

Her face goes from pinched and questioning to soft and caring, her pale hand resting on his shoulder in a rare show of her own affections. He covers it with his own almost instinctively, like he’s trained his body to be touching her in some way all day no matter what. He probably had.

_Y'know...you can talk to me, right? Like...I’m not gonna laugh,_ She looked away for just a second, giving him a smirk when she turned back to him. _...Much._

Stu actually let out a laugh at that, squeezing the hand she settled on his shoulder a bit as he did. Tatum felt herself giggle a bit as well, as Stu’s laugh had always been contagious and a great way to bring Tatum out of any funk she might’ve been in. She grabbed onto the hand that held hers easily.

_I know, I know. Bleeding hearts, I love you, and all that bs,_ He chuckled good naturedly. He let go of her hand and replaced it with his arm going smoothly around her shoulders. _But I’m fine, m’lady. I’m alright._

She frowned a bit as he pulled her to him and held her a little too close to his side, signifying that he was 100% _not_ alright. His fingers dug into her arms a bit, but not enough to bruise, and he wasn’t trying to jokingly cop a feel like he usually would with his arm around her shoulders. He was just...holding her.

_...Is it the murders, babe?_ She asked again, and he stiffened against her noticeably (or maybe she just noticed cause she was pulled flush against his side).

_...Huh, sugar?_

_The murders. You worried about em or something?_ She asks, and he barks out a hoarse laugh at that, a sign she'd hit the nail on the head with him (but not in the way she thought. Oh, not at all…).

_I mean, of course I am! Worried that all the gore and violence will make them outlaw my horror movies, Tate. Then there’ll be no more movie nights together and spooning like an old, sexless married couple._ Stu jokes, but Tatum worries her bottom lip as she looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

She knows that’s not it. _Knows_ it and _feels_ it deep in her bones the way she knows Sidney or Dewey.

Biting her lip as she thought, she reached up and gently squeezed the hand he settled on her bicep. He squeezed back tightly, but couldn’t quite look Tatum in the eyes even though he could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head like green inferno.

_...You’re not gonna lose me to a killer, if that’s what you’re worried about._ She says after a beat of silence once they get to the door of their class, the first ones there since a good chunk of the kids were ditching class because of the murders and the Ghostfaces running around campus scaring everyone. Stu went quiet, hand stilling in her own as he stared off into the distance.

_You won’t. I could totally kick their ass before they got their hands on me._ She chuckles, fake punching the air for emphasis to try to lighten the mood. All her actions get are light, breathless chuckles and no eye contact from Stu as they walked into class together.

After that conversation, the air around each other was...not quite tense, but not quite lightened, either; he still clung to her, but she clung back a bit. What she’d said to him was true...at least she’d wanted it to be.

She’d wanted desperately to convince him that she was 100% not going to die, that she was going to stay right here and survive the killer’s wrath...but she just didn’t know. What she’d said struck a chord with both of them, though Tatum was unaware that it was for different reasons.

Maybe he was scared of losing her...and maybe she was scared, too, if the way she was hanging onto his arm and subtly pressing their desks and chairs up against each other every time the teacher turned away or nodded off was anything to go by.

...But maybe they could survive the night...together.

_(They couldn’t, they_ couldn’t _and Stu_ knew.

_The clock on their classroom wall ticked slowly, but all too fast. The day dragged, but his time with Tatum blurred by him._

_Tatum was afraid because she didn’t know what her fate was for the next week, or day, or even hour. Stu was afraid because he_ did.)__

It was 8:30 PM before Stu even had a chance to blink.

He remembers his last moments hugging Tatum at school, the scent of her orange perfume and the feeling of her soft braids tickling his face, and then he let her go to get food for the party with Sidney.

He remembers punking Randy, then talking to Billy about how this was _Act 3, Stu; it’s the last night of our murder spree and we’re gonna make it count before the curtain falls, aren’t we? Just make sure that Sidney and your bitchy girlfriend are in their places before the lights go up, got it?_ (He remembers the flare of protection in his chest, felt it deep in his gut when Billy called his Tatum a bitch, but the protectiveness was soon replaced by fear and anticipation before he could say anything in his soon-to-be-ex’s honor).

The minute Tatum and Sidney walk through the door accompanied by a squirming Randy, Stu’s heart both broke and swelled, and he felt his throat almost close up on him.

Her blonde hair was straightened and free of her usual braids, and it cascaded down her face in short waterfalls that he longed to run his hands through one more time. She plucked her eyebrows perfectly that night, and her flaxen eyelashes framed her glittering green eyes. She was wearing his favorite yellow turtleneck and one of the jackets he’d bought her on a whim, and her pink lips were pulled into a glossy smirk that he wanted to kiss one last time (and kiss her lips, he did).

Her presence was both his saving grace and the final nail in her coffin as he accepted her into his arms and plucked the plastic bag of beer from her dainty hands. Her orange perfume choked him, and her giggle stabbed at his heart.

All day he’d been hoping that she couldn’t come tonight, that she’d get sick or that Deputy Dewey Boy would put a stop to her leaving the house altogether, or even, God forbid, that he’d do something dumb enough to piss her off so badly that she broke up with him and decided to bail on the party, but evidently that wasn’t going to happen…

_She was going to die...She was going to die...Die die die die die diediediediediediediedie-_

Stu sat on the couch next to Sidney and Randy, who were bundled up close together and pouring over Stu’s horror movie collection, and just as he’d hoped, Tatum comfortably sat herself in his lap with her back pressed against his chest and her head tipped onto his shoulder. His arms went over her, and she was playfully swatting his hands away from her body by holding them.

That night, he tried to make her giggle as much as possible; they fought over a toothpick between giggles, her teeth chomping on the air trying to get it. Their fingers clicked and locked together, and he buried his nose in her hair and pretended to creepily sniff it (for some reason, doing that always got her to let out pearl after pearl of laughter, and God did he love her laugh. The last thing he wanted to hear from her was her beautiful laugh).

But then the door opened, and Dewey and Gale walked in arm and arm with fake blinding smiles for all the teen occupants. Unfortunately, it was the perfect distraction to send Tatum away.

_Hey Tate, go and get us more beer, wouldja?_ He pressed his lips to her quivering cheek as she giggled. She swatted him away as he went over to the adult couple, her face pinched in barely exasperated fondness for him.

_What am I, your beer wench?_ She quipped anyway, throwing the toothpick away from her with an eye roll that Stu didn’t catch, but could hear in her tone.

The crowd gathered around Gale, Dewey, and then Sidney (Stu felt a bit of pity for the poor girl; it can’t be easy to have so much attention on you when you don’t want it) as the three exchange glances and weighted, barely concealed words.

Stu keeps himself in the excited fray of things as the party host, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of Tatum’s blonde hair and her pale skin as she sauntered over to the garage, where they kept the extra beers.

_Stop her,_ He thought, glancing over at Dewey, who was too busy scoping out the party with Gale on his arm. _Come on, you fuckrag, fucking stop her._

His eyes were trained on the young cop, his heart hammering against his ribcage as Tatum inched closer and closer to the door.

_Stop her. Make her go home. Get her out of here, you asshole._

_Stop her stop her stop her stopherstopherstopherstopher-_

...And then Dewey walked out of the party just like that, no surveillance of the room or even an inkling of an idea that something may be unsafe about his sister being at a crowded party after curfew.

Tatum disappeared into the dark basement, humming to herself and blissfully unaware of her fate, of her role in this movie as the murderer’s girlfriend.

The minute he couldn’t hear her heels clicking on the floor, the minute he asked her to go get beer, the minute he saw her disappear into the crowd, was the minute his heart sank in his chest and shattered, because he knew that his garage would be her tomb…

...And he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t _save_ her…

He knows his role in this movie, and it’s not the romantic interest or the hero who’s going to save his pretty princess from the evil villains…

This was a horror movie, with blood and violence and cruelty, and he was a villain. In movies like this, the pretty princess dies and the villain walks away victorious with her blood staining his robe and a winning, psychotic grin adorning his dramatic face…

So why wasn’t this a victory…? Why did this feel like it was his death, too…?

The crowd closed together again, wonderfully distracted by the noise of the loud music and a happy party to notice that Taum has been, and will be, gone a long time.

Dewey, the only cop around for miles, had just walked out of the party with a reporter after barely even talking to his little sister, who was at a drunken teen party.

Stu watched as Billy slunk around the house through a far away window to go after his Tatum, black jacket drawn around him and face pinched into a killer frown.

Randy was unknowingly distracting Sidney, talking to her about his horror movie collection back home and the importance of a good Scream Queen. Sidney listened with rapt interest, nodding along and laughing at the appropriate times. Randy laughed along, cheeks a dusty red from the alcohol and from the attention he craved from Sidney.

...No one was watching Stu as he inched towards the basement door.

He was about to close and lock it, but then he caught sight of her...his last sight of her.

He could see the side of her, but he loved all sides of her, so long as he could see her.

Her golden hair spilled around her face, framing her pale complexion just right. She piled beer bottles in her arms and cradled them to her chest, and her flaxen eyelashes brush against her soft cheeks and veil her green eyes.

Tatum hums to herself, lips puckered absently as she did so.

He watched her, hand shaking near the door knob. 

This was the finale, the home stretch, her final scene…

_And she looks amazing…a true natural..._

Stu swallows the lump in his throat. The veins in his wrist bulge as he tightens his grip on the door knob, and his eyes dart around the room looking for Billy. Time seems to go in slow motion as his heart races.

_Tatum…_

His heart constricts. His mind is racing a mile a minute. His whole body tenses.

There’s so much he didn’t get to say to her, so much he longed to say now but couldn’t, _wouldn’t._

_He couldn’t disturb the scene._

_This was_ her _scene,_ her _time to shine._

_After all...she_ was _his leading lady, always and forever. She earned her scene._

He heard the rakes fall over, heard the yowl of a cat, heard her little gasp and the clink of the beer bottles being slammed together against her chest.

Amidst this noise, he slammed the door shut and locked it. She’d never hear it over all the noise of the room.

_Stu hoped it was painless. His leading lady deserved at least that much._

He slid against the door, pursing his lips so as not to finally give in and cry like a little bitch.

_(You’re such a little bitch,_ Billy would growl at him, waving their Ghostface knife at him with an angry scowl and frighteningly empty eyes fixed on him. _We’re killers, killers and survivors in our own movie, and you’re gonna cry over some two bit bitch in high waists? Fuck outta here, Stu.)_

_Hey shitheads?!...Hello..?!_ He heard her knocking...

...And even still, the tears leaked down his face at her voice. His fingers itched to unlock the door, to let her out and pretend it was all a huge joke on her, but instead he kept his back to it and made sure she couldn’t get out.

_(He was regretting agreeing to stand watch and make sure no one got anywhere near the basement so Billy could kill Tatum in peace, but the alternative was killing her himself, and he didn’t know if he could be trusted to not let her go upon the first instance that she was scared or hurt.)_

The rest of it ends in a blur. He’d wanted the last thing he heard of her to be her laugh, her beautiful laugh and her pretty smile, but it wasn’t.

The last thing he’d heard of her was her muffled screaming for help, then the muted crunch of her head.

_(The sound of her head crunching in the pet door coupled with her screaming bloody murder bounced around in his head. It plugged his ears and infected his whole being with the sickening sounds of the love of his life dying…_

_And it was all his fault…_

_He guesses that that’s what he deserves, isn’t it? He dug her grave like the true monster he is, and now he gets to watch her writhe in it knowing that it’s all it’s his fault...)_

The room went deathly quiet, he knew…

And then the doorknob rattled.

Stu stared at it, chin quivering and eyebrows pinched as the doorknob rattled miserably.

Finally, from the other side of the door, he hears _Stu. Let me in, you fuckrag._

_Oh...Billy._

Stu unlocks the door to see Billy cleaning blood off of their knife with the Ghostface cloak, a haunting smile adorning his angular face.

Wordlessly, Stu moves aside from the doorway so Billy could make his safe escape from the garage. Billy’s pleasantly amused smile wavers a bit, though unsympathetically, at Stu’s stricken and quiet demeanor.

“What the fuck’s up with you?” Billy frowns, raising a cruel eyebrow.

“Huh? Oh. Nothing.” Stu replies. Billy looks him over with a bit of a sneer before he replies with an uncaring shrug.

“Whatever. Just make sure you don’t fuck up the plan. Got it, fuckrag?” Billy jabs his finger into Stu’s chest repeatedly, cementing his unspoken threat. Stu gives another nod, and with a particularly unkind shove, Billy makes his way towards the back door in a huff.

Stu knows he should follow him to the front of the house in order to save face and keep up the facade of the excitable party host, but he couldn’t bear to, now; not when his girlfriend was dead, and not when it was his fault.

He looked back at the garage door, closed but not unlocked and sitting innocently against the baby blue walls of the house. He had not the heart to lock it just yet, but also couldn’t bring himself to see her body pinned helplessly to the pet door.

Even still, Stu’s face split into a bright smile, like the true madman that he was. His fingers prodded listlessly at the emerald ring on his right hand, the ring that he bought specifically to match with the silver one that Tatum wore.

_Good job, pretty baby,_ Before him, he sees the last moment of her alive. Her blonde hair was veiling her pretty face, her favorite yellow shirt on prominent display and her pretty voice humming some tune he recognized in the back of his mind.

_You were my final girl, and you looked amazing...you were the best leading lady I’ll ever have._


End file.
